“Little boys always get into trouble when they run away from home, eh, Ben!” laughed Brenchfield.
The coarse humour didn’t catch on.
Eileen Pederstone laid her basket on the smithy floor, threw a look of contempt into the youthful Mayor’s face and walked out with her head high.
“One for his nobs!” laughed Ben Todd. “And, damn it!––you cold-blooded alligator!––she served you rightly.”
CHAPTER IV
Wayward Langford
While the foregoing was taking place in Pederstone’s smithy at Vernock, a scene of a different nature was being enacted in the Governor’s private office at Ukalla Prison.
Phil Ralston, somewhat refreshed from a scrubbing, a good sleep and two prison meals, had just been ushered into the presence of the man who held power almost of life and death over every unfortunate confined there.